An Extra Loop in the Snake
by Eqgz
Summary: The expurgated scenes from A Serpent in the Garden.
1. Author's Note

An Extra Loop in the Snake  
The expanded love scenes from _A Serpent in the Garden  
_by Eqgz

**Warning:**

** This is not a stand-alone! It isn't even a _complete_ story. It is a place to put the expurgated sex scenes from another tale which would otherwise slow down or change the feeling of the main story. Go read _A Serpent in the Garden_ for the full story.**

** I'm treading the knife-edge of Fan Fiction's M rating here. I am attempting to portray sex in a loving but graphic manner without being raunchy or pornographic. Still-- tastes are different and tolerances for the level of descriptiveness vary from person to person. You may not like what you read here. If you don't like it, but think you can guide me to a level or style more suited to your tastes, I am more than open to constructive criticism. If you just don't like it _at all_-- go away and pretend it doesn't exist. If you think it violates FanFic's TOS, please point that the offending parts to me and I'll change or delete them.**

** I will re-post the entirety of each chapter as well as the extra material when necessary.**

**Disclaimer:**

** Many of the characters herein are trademarked by Bandai and/or Toei. This work is derivative of the Digimon television series and is in no way meant to imply ownership or infringe on any trademark or copyright.**


	2. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 (unexpurgated)  
Traveling

The trio continued South and West. They passed beyond the limit of the bomb's EMP effect and the roads became crowded with vehicles-- civilian ones moving away from the area, military ones moving into it.

They abandoned the bicycles and began moving cross-country to avoid being seen. Gwen could have betrayed them several times by calling out to nearby troops or falling behind, then running for safety. But she didn't. Greg was too self-absorbed by his own reaction to the tragedy to give it much thought but he knew that if Gwen _did_ try something, Renamon would be more than capable of handling a few weekend warriors and their pitiful weaponry. Gwen knew it, too, but that was only one of the reasons she quietly went along.

Gwen's lockpick set and her knowledge of alarm systems came in very handy the next night, enabling them to procure equipment and camp-food from a sporting goods store. Afterwards, they found a protected area next to a little stream, spread out their sleeping bags, and set up the little camp stove to cook their dinner. Renamon disappeared into the night, patrolling the area and keeping watch over them.

With a full belly and a warm sleeping bag around him, Greg relaxed a bit. Gwen looked over at him and simply said, "My grandparents lived in Atherton."

Atherton had been the next little town North of Palo Alto on the San Francisco Peninsula. Had been. It didn't exist any longer.

"I'm sorry--" Greg began and then broke down in tears.

Gwen didn't say anything. She let him get it out, let him do as much as possible to release his emotions while keeping his dignity.

He wiped his face on his sleeve and was silent for a while.

Gwen said nothing.

"It's not my fault," he said, eventually. "It was just a simple simulation. Hell, even when it got out of control, it _still_ wasn't doing much harm. If I hadn't been kidnapped maybe I could have done something-- got it under control or stopped it."

"Like what?" Gwen knew better than to offer an opinion. People talked best when they weren't sidetracked.

"Maybe I could have just asked Renamon to stop it. She's the one who organized the invasion, after all. Hell, she only did it in the first place because she felt she had to rescue me!"

"She's capable of that sort of complexity?"

"Of _course_ she is! She's my masterpiece-- and she's grown _way_ beyond her original parameters. Even my low-level AIs don't just follow a stupid script. They're actually capable of _learning_! There was one NPC that I made for--" Greg went on about his work for quite a while, which was exactly what Gwen wanted. She didn't care about the details of programming, of course-- what she wanted was for Greg to open up to her. She gave him a sympathetic ear and let him talk.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Over the next few days as they traveled, Gwen got Greg to reveal a great deal about himself. They fell into a tenuous friendship that soon began to feel natural and easy-going to Greg. Gwen was very good at her job. One subject Greg didn't touch on again was his vow of revenge but she knew he hadn't forgotten it.

There were roadblocks and military patrols everywhere but between the map function of Greg's digivice, which had finished repairing and recharging itself sometime on the third day of their journey, and Renamon's supernaturally keen senses, they had no trouble avoiding them.

They sneaked into towns at night to replenish their food and water. Most were small places and despite the nation-wide curfew, they had no trouble dodging the few sheriff or National Guard patrols. By herself, Renamon could have strolled through the towns in broad daylight and still avoided notice but Greg didn't want to be separated from her for long. So, despite having his face on every news channel as the world's most wanted man, he insisted on coming along on the supply raids.

Both Gwen and Greg were in excellent shape and had no trouble traveling quite a distance each day. Renamon had regained her full strength and offered to carry them both in order to speed up their progress but Gwen flatly refused.

"It's okay, Renamon," Greg said, "we're not in a real hurry and all this walking gives me time to plan."

Gwen didn't like the sound of that. She still had no idea where they were headed or what Greg intended to do when they got there.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They had been traveling just over a week when Gwen decided it was the right time to make a pass at Greg.

They'd raided a small market and retreated to the little woodlot where they'd made camp. Greg and Gwen cooked their dinner while Renamon climbed to the top of grain silo about half a mile away to keep watch. Renamon never ate with them. She'd let Greg give her a tidbit or sweet once in a while but mainly fed herself while on patrol. Greg had asked her what she usually found to eat and after getting the brief reply, "Rabbits. Sometimes lambs," he decided not to look into the matter too closely.

That night after they had eaten well, Gwen revealed a surprise. She reached into her pack and pulled out a six-pack of beer. "Ta-da! I snagged it when you weren't looking. I hope you like the brand-- I just grabbed it at random." It was a lie, of course. Gwen had paid close attention to every last personal detail that Greg had divulged during their trip. He had only mentioned his favorite beer once in passing, but Gwen had made a special note of it.

"Wow! You hit the jackpot, Agent Gwen! This is great-- but-- aw, hell, _one_ can't hurt, can it?"

Gwen opened one for herself and passed another to Greg. "Only luxury we're gonna get for a while. Cheers!"

Greg twisted the top off the beer and, rather solemnly, returned the toast, "Confusion to the Enemy."

They finished the first beers and Gwen opened a second and passed it to Greg.

"I don't know if I should--"

"Oh come on! We're in the middle of nowhere and the Holy Terror is out there watching over us-- we can get a _little_ buzzed. Or are you worried about getting a beer-belly?" She scooted over to him and poked him in the stomach with a forefinger.

Greg gave a half-chuckle and said, "No, the hobo lifestyle seems to agree with me. I think I've lost whatever body-fat I once had."

"Oh yeah?" Gwen took a long pull from her beer and then set it down and reached out and grabbed Greg's shirt and pulled it up. She placed her other hand on Greg's bare abs and ran it up under the edge of his shirt to just below his pecs. "Yup-- still rock-hard-- you've got no worries. Very _nice_, in fact."

Before Greg could recover from his shock, Gwen took her hands off him. He took a drink to cover his brief embarrassment.

"You're not the only one with abs of steel, you know." Gwen said, giving him time to swallow so there was no chance he'd do a spit-take. She pulled her own shirt up, revealing her own stomach and tensed her muscles. "How about that, huh? How many girls do you know with muscle tone like _that_?"

"I-- uh--" Greg was a bit flustered but his eyes were right where Gwen wanted them.

She didn't give him time to turn to another subject. She reached over and took his free hand and placed it on her taut belly. "Yeah, I'm not as ripped as you are, but I've got pretty damned good definition-- feel that?"

"Yeah--" Greg breathed.

Gwen leaned closer, pressing one of her breasts against his upper arm and pushed his hand up higher on her body. "That's all muscle-- obliques, not ribs-- and-- and--"

She could feel his pulse racing. "And?" he asked, not offering any resistance to her guiding hand as she pushed his up over a wonderfully firm breast.

"And-- your hand on me feels good-- _really_ good." Gwen said in a low, soft voice. "It's been a long time since-- _OOF!"_

Gwen's seductive tone ended in a gasp as all of the air was knocked out of her lungs. She found herself flat on the ground, pinned to the earth by one of Renamon's massive hands. The fox's sapphire eyes blazed with anger and her teeth were bared in a savage snarl. One foot was placed squarely on Gwen's belly, the curved black claws pricking her skin. One twitch of Renamon's powerful thigh and she'd be gutted like a trout.

"Renamon, stop!" Greg yelled, "Let her go!"

Renamon glanced at him, still snarling and then returned her attention back to Gwen. She bent her head down until it nearly touched Gwen's face. Gwen could feel Renamon's hot breath on her skin as the fox hissed ever so quietly between her teeth, "He's _mine!_"

_"Renamon!"_

Renamon released the woman and stepped back. Gwen sat up, gasping for air.

"Shit, Gwen, are you alright?" Greg asked as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah-- *cough* --just _fine_." Gwen sneered, "But I think _y_our _AI_ could use a little adjustment to its _programming_." It was a calculated risk. Gwen didn't want to die at the hands of an enraged digimon but she also wanted to take any chance she could to drive a wedge between Greg and Renamon. A calculated insult that reminded him his "partner" was just an artificial being was too good to pass up.

Renamon glared at her but otherwise didn't move.

"Renamon," Greg said turning to his partner, "why did you do that? I mean, it's not like-- I mean, we didn't--"

"I see," Renamon's tail lashed in annoyance. "Do what you like, Greg. I'm sorry I interfered."

"No, wait--" Greg began, but Renamon suddenly vanished from sight.

Gwen stood and moved over to Greg, pressing herself against his side. "Greg, she really _scares_ me. She might have killed me. I think-- I think she may be unstable--"

He didn't say anything, but the look Greg gave her told her that he didn't give a _damn_ what she thought. He shoved her roughly away, grabbed his coat, and stalked out into the darkness.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Renamon!" Greg called. "Renamon, please answer me!" He knew he'd never find her if she wanted to stay hidden but he also guessed she would be within range of his voice. "Renamon, please! I'm really sorry about what happened back there. She caught me off-guard."

He paused to listen. An owl hooted in the distance.

"Damnit, Renamon! I don't--" Greg broke off as a thought occurred to him. He fished in the big outside pockets of his coat and came up with his digivice. "I'm not letting you run away from me," he called as he thumbed the locater on. As long as she didn't use her speed to avoid him, he could-- The red triangle popped up, indicating Renamon's location: She was right behind him.

He spun around to find his partner, arms crossed over her chest, glowering at him. "What do you want, Greg?" Her voice was just as icy as her eyes.

"Isn't it obvious, you dumb fox?" Greg nearly shouted, as he tossed his digivice aside, "I want _you!_"

"Alright. I'm here. If you want to talk, I'm listening. Or maybe you want to _re-program_ me--"

"Shut up!" Greg _did_ shout then. "I won't _ever_ let _anyone_ talk like that about you again, and I sure as hell don't want to hear it from you! You're not a program or a _thing_! You're-- you're-- "

"I'm wha--" Renamon couldn't finish her question. Greg grabbed her by both cheeks and planted a forceful kiss on her mouth.

For an instant, he thought he'd made a mistake. Renamon stiffened and kept her lips were pressed tightly together. But only for an instant. Then she slowly relaxed, dropping her arms to her sides. Her lips softened and parted, returning Greg's kiss as her arms came up to circle him.

It was weird.

She wasn't human. She wasn't an animal. She was something in between and something greater than both-- something new and different. She smelled just a good as Greg remembered and she tasted even better. Her mouth felt odd against his-- different lips-- sharp teeth-- and a tongue that glided across his like-- like--

Weird but good. No, _great_.

After quite some time, they parted. But not very far. Renamon sighed and rested her head on Greg's shoulder. "When I saw you touching her, I-- I felt-- so _awful_. Worse than any wound I've ever had. Worse than when the bomb burned me."

Greg stroked her back for a while before answering, enjoying the feel of the long sweep of muscles beneath her silky fur. "She set me up, you know. I never would have--"

Renamon raised her hand and placed one rather huge fingertip on Greg's lips, silencing him. "I know-- but it still hurt." She raised her head and gazed into his eyes, her pupils gone huge and dark. "Please make the hurt go away."

He kissed her again, and it wasn't so strange as before-- just wonderfully exotic. Her tongue was long and unbelievably dexterous. Greg ran his hands down her torso-- through her silky fur and over the firm flesh beneath. He could feel the immense power in her body, the burning energy that made made Gwen's strength seem laughable.

Renamon gently stroked Greg's back with one hand and ran the other down the side of his body, squeezing gently, almost hesitantly. She broke off their kiss to take a breath of air-- her breathing had become shallow and rapid. Greg's hands circled her hips and cupped her ass, squeezing tightly. She caught her breath for an instant and then let it go in a sigh of pleasure. She rocked her hips and flexed her muscles for him, as she lowered her mouth to his neck and gently licked below his jaw.

Greg gasped at the sensation and lifted his chin for her.. As much as he hated to remove his hands from the perfect curves of her magnificent ass, there were other places to explore. _I've always wondered--_, he thought as he slid his hands up under Renamon's ruff.

She was utterly perfect. Beneath the thick mass of fur that circled her neck, under the sleek, satin fur of her chest, were a pair of small, taut breasts, perfectly matched to her athletic figure. Renamon sighed again as he touched her there, pressing herself against his exploring hands. He felt her nipples harden under his touch and took them between his fingers, plucking them gently.

Renamon cried out loud at this attention, her huge hands spreading across Greg's back, pulling him closer to her. She nuzzled the base of his throat as he continued to massage her breasts and pressed her belly against his. Her eyes opened in surprise at the hardness she felt trapped between them and she lifted her head to gaze into Greg's eyes.

"Yes," he whispered, "Of _course_, I want you. You're so beautiful-- how could I not?"

She nearly tore his clothes off.

When he was naked, she pressed herself against him again and rolled her hips. The feel of her supple muscles and silky fur moving against him made him shiver and his hands gripped her waist with the strength of desire. As their lips met again, Greg slid one hand down her belly, and she shifted to make room for his caress. He moved his hand lower, his fingers gliding through the thicker fur where her belly narrowed and met her thighs.

Aside from her arm guards, Renamon wore no clothing and Greg had never seen a hint of anything between her legs but smooth fur. But as his fingers curled around, his touch met soft, warm flesh and Renamon's grip on him tightened. He caressed her gently and she shuddered and breathed out a soft, "oh, oh, oh," in time to his strokes. She rocked her hips forward and her gasps became more urgent as her flesh became slick and wet.

The feel of her, the smell of her, the sounds she made, all drove Greg wild. He knelt and pulled her down with him, then took her shoulders in his hands and pushed her down onto the grass. She parted her thighs and her eyes told him she wanted this as much as he did.

He lay on her, and slid upward until the tip of his shaft just touched her warm, wet flesh. She clutched at him, urging him further, and her long silken tail began to stroke the naked skin of his back. But he paused-- even though he was aching with need. There was something that needed to be said.

"How could you believe I would want her when it's _you_ I love?"

He moved upward and she gasped and cried out his name and she squeezed down on him, her hot, velvety flesh engulfing his length. Greg cried out, too, but it was a wordless shout of pleasure at the amazing sensations that ran through him. Without a conscious decision they both began moving, bodies flexing, hips rocking in unison-- even their breaths fell into a matching rhythm.

Renamon wrapped her powerful legs around Greg's lower body, her hands kneaded his back and shoulders, and her tail stroked anywhere that wasn't already covered by other parts of her. Her wonderful scent surrounded him as well, but it was changed, strengthened and touched with something wild and magical.

Greg found reserves of strength and stamina he didn't know he possessed and his thrusts grew faster and stronger, much to Renamon's delight. She moaned and panted, and alternated between, kissing, licking, and nipping at his neck and shoulders. Greg let himself go as he never had with any woman. Renamon was so powerful that there was no need to hold back with her, and exerting all his strength on her only heightened her pleasure. She urged him on with every motion and caress and then, suddenly, her breathing became ragged and her movements sharp and convulsive. Her wonderful flesh rippled along his length and she screamed through gritted teeth, her hips bucking wildly.

Greg had never felt anything so intensely sensual in his life. He felt as if an electric charge had ripped through his body and he came so hard that the force of his own muscles contracting made his ribs spark with pain.

They collapsed together, panting and still intertwined. When Renamon had gotten her breathing under control she covered Greg's face with rapid, fervent kisses and then, as he finally managed to respond, held one for a long, long time. Then they merely held each other for a much longer time.

"That was so _wonderful_," Renamon whispered softly. "I never imagined it would be like that."

"It was amazing," Greg agreed. "You felt--" he shook his head in frustration. "No, there are no words for how good you felt." He raised himself up on his forearms and looked down at her, wincing a bit as various little aches and pains intruded on his awareness.

Renamon let her hands slide from his back to allow him to rise and was surprised to feel them stick slightly. She held up a hand to look at it and gasped in surprise. There was blood on her palm. "Oh, Greg! Oh, no! I've hurt you! I'm sorry-- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--"

Greg rolled his shoulders experimentally. There was some pain but not a lot. "No, it's okay, Renamon.-- just a few scratches-- I didn't even notice." He leaned down and kissed her on the nose. "I was too busy having the most intense orgasm of my life!"

_That_ sidetracked her. "Really? I-- I made you feel that good?" She smiled, almost shyly.

Greg chucked. "All that yelling I did? That was a good indicator."

She licked the blood off her paw before stroking his head, an action that Greg found strangely erotic. "I'm so glad. I wanted to make you feel good. I wanted you to feel loved."

"Well, you should have no worries on that score!" Greg chuckled. "I feel like I've been through love's meat-grinder backwards and forwards!"

His choice of words caused Renamon to become concerned for his back again and she insisted on cleaning his scratches. Greg enjoyed the feel of her licking his wounds and, strangely, the pain disappeared as soon as her tongue ran the length of a scratch.

"Hmn--" Greg mused, "that tongue of yours is magical in more ways that one."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Gwen sprawled beside the dying embers of the campfire and reached for another beer. There weren't any more.

She squinted at the stars and tried to make them come into focus. It was very late and Greg had still not returned.

She crawled into her sleeping bag without undressing and fumbled briefly with the stuck zipper before giving up. She rolled onto her side and just as sleep overtook her, she muttered one slurred word.

"Goddamnit."


	3. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 (unexpurgated)  
Plan B

Gwen awoke with a dry, foul-tasting mouth and a small but vicious headache lurking behind her eyes. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked across the ashes of the campfire to where Greg and Renamon lay tangled together on his sleeping bag. Greg was smiling, even in his sleep.

_Yeah,_ Gwen told herself,_ that's love-- no doubt about it. So much for Plan A._ She began to make a mental assessment of the options left to her. The picture wasn't pretty. If she had been able to seduce Greg and eventually bring him and maybe even his digimon in alive, she would have been a world-class hero-- even though nobody outside of her agency would have known about it.. Plan B would be a lot more messy and a lot less heroic. _And_ a lot more dangerous.

Neither of the pair had moved but as Gwen looked closer, she saw that the digimon was awake and watching her. One eye was open just a tiny bit-- a narrow blue slit with a dark pupil that was locked onto her. _No point in subtleties, now,_ Gwen thought and flipped the monster the bird. It must have understood the gesture because it lifted its lip enough to reveal one sharp canine tooth.

_Good,_ thought Gwen, _hate, I can work with._

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next couple of days were the most severe trial of her patience that Gwen had ever undergone. Greg and his partner were utterly revolting. They both grinned like idiots all the time, touching each other whenever possible, whispering to each other, and generally behaving like a couple of brainless teenagers. At least they went well out of earshot when they left the campsite each night.

And that gave Gwen time to plan. They were getting careless, forgetting that she wasn't really on their side and giving her several opportunities to prepare herself. The trouble wasn't in "neutralizing" Greg. Despite his formidable martial arts skills, he had left himself open to a deadly strike several times already and would, no doubt, do so again in the future. Gwen had equipped herself with a couple of makeshift weapons, any of which could do the job very handily-- and very _quickly_.

The problem was the damned digimon. Gwen had no doubts that she could easily kill Greg but she knew she had no defense against the digimon and wouldn't survive very long after harming Greg. And who knew what sort of rampage the monster would go on if its tamer (and lover, Gwen reminded herself with a little wince of disgust) weren't around to control it?

But she had the beginnings of a plan-- all she needed was a bit of time and luck.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"There's something wonderful about skin," Renamon said as she nuzzled and sniffed at the hollow of Greg's throat. "Not just the smell-- that's _you_, after all--" she continued as she deftly undid the buttons of his shirt and slid her hand over the muscles of his chest, "but the _feel_ of it-- so sleek and smooth. It's wonderful!"

"I feel the same way about your fur," Greg told her, stretching and basking in the physical attention she was lavishing on him. "So many textures-- and all delightful."

"But doesn't it-- well-- hide my features? You skin is so-- _revealing_."

"If I don't know all your 'features' by now, it's not for lack of trying!" Greg chuckled.

That made Renamon smile. But she went back to stroking Greg's body, pushing away the flaps of his shirt and gently tracing the outlines of his abs with a claw tip. "I love watching your muscles move under your skin-- seeing them change shape-- the way these ones weave into each other-- and-- and--"

"Yes?" Greg prompted, just a vulnerable to praise as any man.

Renamon slid her hand down to his lower abdomen. "And the way you tighten up here when you cum-- all the hard shapes crowding against each other-- " She lowered her head and began kissing Greg's belly. "I just love it!"

Greg was about to deliver a quip about having to show her that more often, but the feel of her lips and tongue and fingers on his body completely sidetracked him. She undid his belt and pants and he lifted his hips, letting her easily slide them off him. She bent again and resumed her attentions, lips and tongue and hands and then the heavy fall of her soft, thick ruff brushing over his thighs and crotch.

"Oh, Renamon," he sighed, "that feels wonderful."

She shifted her hands to the tops of his thighs and began to gently knead them. Her tongue lightly touched his navel and then trailed downward to where he stood hard and ready for her. She raised her head slightly and then paused and Greg squirmed in anticipation. Renamon opened her mouth and let her warm breath wash over him.

"Oh, god!" Greg groaned, "You damned _tease_! I can't--" he tried to thrust upward but Renamon's powerful hands pressed down on his hips, preventing him. She opened her mouth wider and moved closer but held off until Greg was nearly crazy with frustration and then ran her slick tongue along the full length of him.

"AH!" Greg yelled in delight, "Ah god, that-- ah, ah ah!"

She pressed his shaft against his belly, licking it with long, rippling strokes of her tongue. He grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them as he moaned with pleasure. After a few minutes she lifted her head again, and waited for Greg's breathing to slow.

After a moment, he looked down at her. "You're not stopping now, are you? Or do you want me to--?" He watched the slow smile creep over Renamon's face as she shook her head ever so slightly. It was hard to think-- he was aching with desire-- pulsing with the need to--

Renamon, her sapphire blue gaze still locked on Greg's face, slid her mouth down over the entire length of Greg's shaft. For an instant he had the image of Renamon's sharp canine teeth flash though his mind but the eruption of intense pleasure that burst in him drove all doubts from his head. Her tongue circled him, her lips stroked and squeezed him, and her mouth sucked at him over and over again until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Oh! Renamon-- oh-- oh-- I'm going to-- to--"

And he _did_. It felt to him like he was never going to stop-- like he was going to keep pumping out his very essence until there was nothing left of him. To lose all of himself into the eager throat of his lover-- to join with her very body-- would that be so bad? But, of course, he did stop, collapsing back onto the ground from the hard-flexed posture the strength of his orgasm had puled him into. He lay there, unable to do anything but gasp for breath for a while,

Renamon continued to nuzzle and lick him as he softened and shrank. She used slow, gentle strokes of her tongue until he was clean and nearly hypnotized by her sensual after-play, then she curled around him and tucked her muzzle under his chin.

Greg was being hunted across the country by deadly enemies. Only days ago, most of the people he knew had been brutally killed. He was traveling with a cold-hearted, calculating spy and an inhuman creature who could be unbelievably savage and destructive when she wanted to be.

And he was happier than he had ever been in his life.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Gwen got a chance to have an extended conversation with Greg only a couple of days later. They were approaching a large city and Renamon needed more time than usual to scout out safe routes for them to follow. She'd been asking him about digimon in general and their methods of fighting in particular, hoping to discover particular weaknesses, but was constantly interrupted by Renamon appearing to give Greg directions-- and get a quick cuddle or smooch, of course.

But that day, there were very few interruptions. Even so, Gwen found herself straying from her intended line of subtle interrogation.

"Do you ever-- listen, I don't want to piss you off but--" Gwen knew she was loosing focus but, for once, she was being honest. "--there's something that's been bugging me--"

Greg glanced over at her and shrugged, "If I don't like what you ask, I'll tell you to mind your own business, fair enough?"

Gwen nodded. "Okay then-- do you ever wonder if Renamon loves you just because she's _programmed_ to?"

Greg actually laughed. "She never _had_ any such directive! She was originally designed to have to _obey_ me, that's all. And she broke _that_ directive petty damned easily."

"Okay-- but you _made_ her. You designed the way she thinks-- or the way she's _supposed_ to think, at least. Doesn't being-- uh-- _romantic_ with her feel a little creepy to you?"

Greg frowned at that and was silent for a while. "No," he said, finally, "it's feels _wonderful_. And as for the artist / creation thing-- it worked out just fine for Pygmalion, didn't it?"

"Pig-who?"

Greg chuckled. "Too busy learning to kill people to study the classics, Gwen? There's a Greek myth about a sculptor, Pygmalion, who made a statue of a woman so beautiful that he fell in love with it and prayed to the gods to make it into a real woman. Worked out fine. They had a bunch of kids if I remember right."

"So," Gwen scowled, "you're planning on having kids with that-- with Renamon? What the hell would they _look_ like?"

"Uh--" Greg's eyes went wide.

_Oh-ho!_ Gwen thought. _Hasn't thought about _that_, has he? I'll bet he hasn't been taking any precautions, either. Maybe I can use this to knock him off-balance._

But Greg relaxed almost instantly. "Naw-- couldn't happen. I don't think she actually has anything resembling DNA, let alone _human_ DNA. There won't be any little Gregs with fox tails running around, I'm afraid."

The image that comment put in Gwen's head nearly made her gag. She dropped the subject and tried to get back on course. "Uh-- riiight. So about these data, virus, and vaccine types you were telling me about--"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Gwen knew something was up when they didn't make camp as soon as the sun began to go down.

They made their way into the city. The curfew actually made it easy to remain unobserved: There was nobody on the streets to see them. Renamon covered the rooftops and guided them away from the police and National Guard patrols.

"Where the hell are we going?" Gwen hissed at Greg.

"Renamon?"

"Not far now," Renamon said, appearing suddenly just behind Gwen.

Gwen jumped in surprise but managed not to cry out. "Damnit, would you _stop_ doing that?"

Renamon ignored her. "Two blocks that way. The nearest patrol is a quarter mile in the other direction."

Greg nodded and Renamon disappeared again. A few moments later they arrived behind a large strip mall and passed several loading docks until Greg stopped and made a sweeping gesture toward a door with one hand while holding out the little lock pick set to her with the other. "Okay, Gwen, do your stuff!"

She stared at the sign next to the door: It was an electronics store. "Oh, no! No fucking way! I don't mind helping you get food and clothes but I'm sure as hell not going to put weapons in your hands!"

"Okay," Greg said, shrugging and opening the little case. "I've been watching you operate the last few times and it looks pretty easy. I'll do it myself."

Twenty minutes later he still hadn't gotten the lock open. "Damnit!" he cursed and stuffed the little metal tools back into their case and snapped it shut.

"Good," Gwen sighed. "Now, can we get out of here?"

"If you think I'm letting a stubborn lock stop me, you really don't know me very well." Greg turned to his partner. "Renamon, rip that door off its hinges and when the troops show up to answer the alarm-- _distract_ them. Don't kill any more of them than you absolutely have to."

"Wait, wait!" Gwen said urgently. "You wouldn't really--"

"Try me."

"Shit." Gwen looked into Greg's face and believed him. "Okay-- okay, give me the picks. But, please-- if I do this for you, will you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Whatever gadgets you get out of there-- whatever you do with them-- promise me they won't be used to harm anyone."

Greg was silent for a moment. Then he turned away from her and looked down at the ground.

"Greg?"

"I never meant to hurt _anyone_, Gwen," he said in a low voice. "The guys who died fighting my digimon-- okay, maybe that _is_ my fault. But at least they were armed and had a chance. It was a stand-up fight. Maybe not an _even_ fight, but they were all volunteers and they shot first."

"And the millions of people who--"

Greg spun on his heel, glaring at her angrily, "Oh no! No way in hell you are going to blame _that_ on me! The fucking _government_ did that-- and it was completely unnecessary! I had _nothing_ to do with that obscenity!"

"Alright, alright," Gwen said, throwing her hands in the air in surrender, "just tell me you aren't intending to do _more_ harm."

"What I'm intending is _change_. Sometimes change is painful. I'll promise you that I won't intentionally harm any innocents-- now or ever. Now, are you going to open that door or are we going to do this the hard way?"

Gwen made a point of opening the lock and disarming the alarm in under fifteen seconds.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greg actually began humming happily as he loaded up the shopping cart.

"All of that crap won't fit in our backpacks," Gwen told him.

"Yeah, you're right. Can you see if you can find a duffel bag or something?"

Gwen happily complied. It gave her a chance to put Plan B into action. She knew a lot more about electronics than she had let on to Greg and a few minutes alone would let her rig something very useful. But her main weapon that night was going to be something a lot simpler: A pen and a pad of paper.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They traveled through the night, getting as far from the city as possible before sunrise. They found a place to camp along a fairly large river and slept for several hours while Renamon kept watch over them.

The rest of the day they stayed there by the river while Renamon scouted. She returned several times, consulted quietly with Greg and then took off again.

Gwen ached to know what they were planning but knew better than to ask the question outright. Instead, she kept up an innocent-seeming conversation with Greg, almost instinctively trying to glean more information even though she had already done what she could to communicate everything she knew to her superiors.

That evening Renamon led them to a disused grain storage depot near a truck stop on Highway 80 and Greg began assembling his equipment.

Gwen took stock of her surroundings and prepared to take action. She moved a short piece of broken angle iron out of the place where she set her backpack down, casually positioning it where she could grab and swing it all in one motion. She palmed an icepick out of the small side pocket on her pack and tucked it up one sleeve, then did the same with a small, innocent-looking cardboard tube with a plastic handle on one end. Lastly, she pushed the power button on the modified cell phone she had hidden inside a jumbo bag of M&Ms candy.

Greg crouched over the laptop and its attached devices, typing rapidly. Gwen tried to move in close to him as if to get a better look at what was on the small computer's screen and Renamon stopped her-- just as she had expected.

Gwen sneered at the digimon, "Fine, keep your little secrets!" and turned away, crossing the dusty room to stand at the open window and look out at the countryside. She leaned against the window frame and looked up into the night sky-- waiting for a signal.

After an hour or so, she saw it. Three aircraft flying in formation, their wing lights blinking in a particular pattern. She glanced at Greg. He was no longer furiously typing but he was still completely engrossed by whatever was on the computer screen. Renamon wasn't anywhere to be seen. The cell phone had gotten the aircraft into the general area-- it was time to provide the pinpoint. Gwen slid the little boating safety flare she had gotten at the first sporting goods store they had robbed out of her sleeve, pointed it out the window, and pulled sharply on the plastic knob on the end.

There was a sharp pop as the flare fired and streaked up into the dark, sputtering a baleful red light. Renamon was at her side almost immediately and slapped her to the floor then stood on her. Gwen tore at the paw that pressed down on her to no avail.

Greg jumped up at the noise and rushed over, first looking out the window at the dying flare and then down at Gwen. "What did you do? Damnit Gwen! _What did you do?_"

"End of the road, Greg. You should have surrendered when you had the chance. They'll be launching an Enhanced Energy Weapon any second now. You and I will probably survive the blast but the EMP will finish your monster here. And there are a couple hundred paratroops up there who will make sure you are caught or dead soon afterward." She broke off with a cry of pain as a snarling Renamon twisted her paw, her hooked black claws tearing through Gwen's shirt and into her skin.

"Stop it, Renamon!" Greg yelled, "We don't have time for that!" He ran back to the laptop and typed frantically for a moment. There was a chime and an artificial voice intoned, "Digitization Sequence initiated." Renamon ran to Greg and pulled him into a tight embrace as Gwen struggled up from the floor.

"You've forced me to do this before I was ready," Greg shouted as both he and Renamon began to glow and sparkle with an eerie light. "If I survive this, I'll be back-- " He and his partner began to break up into bits of light that began drifting downward and into the computer screen and his voice crackled and distorted. "And you, Agent Gwen--"

Gwen had stumbled over to the piece of strategically-placed angle iron and grabbed it.

"--you -- are no -- innocent."

She flung the piece of steel as hard as she could, striking the little laptop square on. There was no explosion or sparks-- nothing dramatic. The computer simply shattered and went dark and the floating motes of light that had been Greg and Renamon faded away.

Seconds later the sky outside went white and Agent Gwen rolled herself into a tight ball and opened her mouth wide.


	4. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 (unexpurgated)  
The Digimon Emperor

Greg hadn't ever really gone away, of course. For the first few milliseconds after he entered the web he was just a mass of compressed data encapsulated in a smartpacket that searched for a suitable host computer. The Cray that controlled Lawrence-Livermore's National Ignition Facility was ideal. It was shielded and had survived the blasts in California but was idle due to the chaos in the state.

The packet triggered the decompression routine and, while Gwen was still diving for the floor in Nebraska, the supercomputer began modeling a small forest glade ringed with fruit trees and bordered by a crystal-clear stream of pure, cold water. An open, Japanese-style pavilion appeared in the glade and immediately thereafter, Renamon and Greg coalesced out of a bright cloud of particles.

"Whatever else might happen--" Renamon began but was interrupted by the thump of Greg's body hitting the polished wood floor of the pavilion.

"Greg!" she cried out and knelt beside him, pulling him into her lap. He was limp and his head lolled on one shoulder. Renamon could hear that he was breathing and his heart was beating but he didn't seem to have any control over his body. His eyes were open but unfocused. Renamon held his head up and stared into his eyes. "Greg, can you hear me?"

She felt a few twitches of his muscles but otherwise got no response. She held him, talking to him softly and stroking his hair, not knowing what else to do.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sparkling lights and strange, random noises and smells were the first things that Greg was conscious of after entering the web. Strange chills and prickly sensations seemed to come and go on his skin-- even though he couldn't seem to feel the rest of his body. He told himself not to panic. He should have been in the little glade he'd manged to set up before Gwen had forced his hand, but instead--

Nothing made any sense. He didn't even seem to have a sense of time. How long had he been in this chaotic limbo? I could have been only a minute or it could have been-- forever? No, that couldn't be right, he remembered coming here with Renamon-- _Renamon._

He tried to call out to her but couldn't even hear his own voice. He fought back panic and tried calling again. And again.

How long had he been calling? He couldn't remember-- but the thought of Renamon was an anchor-- something to hold on to. He kept calling.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Greg, can you hear me?" Renamon asked again. She had gotten some water from the stream and dripped it into his mouth. He'd reflexively swallowed, which encouraged her. His body seemed to be fine. If only his mind--

"Ruhh--" Greg slurred out the sound, and Renamon knew what he was trying to say.

"Yes, Greg, I'm here! It's me, Renamon!"

"Reh--?"

She held his head in her hands and kissed him on the fore head. "Come back to me Greg."

And, slowly,-- he did.

The first thing that made any sense to him at all was the sound of her voice. After that, random blobs of color began to resolve themselves into recognizable shapes and he began to feel his body. It was quite a while before he could fully control himself and Renamon propped him up on some cushions and brought him water from the stream and fruit from the trees before he was able to walk by himself.

"What happened?" Renamon asked him when he was finally able to hold a coherent conversation. "I was so worried!"

Greg finished the sweet apple he had been eating and tossed the core out of the pavilion. I disappeared before it hit the ground. "I think it's an interface problem. Your brain is digital, so it has no problem interpreting a digital sim." He waved a hand, indicating their surroundings. "My brain is an analog, electro-chemical chunk of gray goo that's currently being _implemented_ by a digital system. It's used to organic input and had to learn how to interpret the new signals it's getting from my senses." He paused and frowned. "Damn, I hope I don't have to go through that again when we go back to the real world!"

"We _are_ going back, then?" Renamon asked.

He smiled and her and looked around at their surroundings. "After a while. It's peaceful and beautiful here and I want to just spend some time with you without worrying about the government or the army or assassins or--"

"I want her," Renamon said simply.

Greg looked at her. She wore her enigmatic expression but he thought he could see hot red anger behind her cool blue gaze. "Gwen?"

Renamon nodded. "She hurt you. She betrayed you. She would have gladly killed you." Little shadows played across her muzzle as her lips began to tense into the ghost of a snarl. "When we go back-- let me have her."

Gwen had just been doing her job. Greg knew that. He loyalty lay with her agency-- whichever one it was-- and with her country. Deception and even murder were part of her duties. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Alright-- if we see her again. But make it quick, will you?"

"I promise."

"Good. Now-- no more talk of unpleasant things," he said, pulling her down onto the cushions beside him. "Let's just relax and enjoy ourselves for a while."

Renamon snuggled into his arms and curled her long tail around him."Are you sure you're-- fully functional again?" There was a definite note of gentle teasing in her voice.

Greg smiled and kissed her gently. "Let's find out." He reached out with his mind. He knew just how their environment was designed and if he could only feel the right connection to the underlying code--

"Greg?" Renamon asked, puzzled by his sudden fierce concentration.

He said nothing for a moment and then a look of satisfaction swept over his face. He looked at Renamon and then at the sky. He made a little gesture with his left hand and the bright spring sunshine disappeared. Night came and the sky blazed with stars. The sound of nightingales came from the woods Another gesture and the pavilion filled with the warm glow of dozens of little lanterns and candles. The sweet smell of sandalwood incense flavored the air. From somewhere unseen, a soft, slow melody began to play.

Renamon stared around her in wonder.

"That's better," Greg said. "Now--" and he reached out for his lover and pulled her close, kissing her long and lovingly. She responded with an urgency which surprised him. Her body arched up under his touch and she shivered as his fingers combed through her fur. The way she moved under his hands and lips made his desire flare in him like a rising sun but what he wanted even more was to make her feel loved and treasured.

His hands stroked her belly and hips and she parted her thighs for him, sighing softly. He leaned down, following the caresses of his hands with ones of his mouth until he breathed in the source of her hot scent and touched her soft flesh with his tongue.

Renamon gasped and there was a sharp ripping sound as her claws clenched in the silk coverings of the cushions. Her belly and thighs surged and tightened into hard shapes under his hands and then fell, heavy and soft with her shuddering exhalation.

Greg lost himself in her velvety softness-- in the slick, gliding caresses of his tongue on her lips and deeper-- in the glorious, wild _taste_ of her. She cried out wordlessly in her low, sweet voice, gasping, sighing, and moaning at each stroke and flick of his tongue.

He lavished attention on her until her voice grew rougher and more feral-- half scream, half snarl, as her hips rolled under his hands and claws tore entirely through the cushions and into the polished floor beneath. He licked and sucked with more urgently, matching her own fervor, and her back arched, hips and thighs lifting him easily as she howled out her joy to the newly-minted stars.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greg wasn't idle, even while spending long, wonderful days and nights with his partner. He set several plans in motion. First was the dispersal of the processing tasks for his little sim. The bombs in California had completely destroyed his original world because it was centered and dependent on one machine. Greg never made the same mistake twice. When he was finished, they were as safe as he could make them. The sim was spread so widely that it wouldn't be noticeable even on the smallest of computers. Greg was pretty sure that only an all-out nuclear war or the destruction of nearly every computer on the planet could harm them.

Next was the gateway. He wouldn't make the mistake of putting it anywhere it could be seen or attacked. That meant it had to be underground but Greg didn't like the idea of returning to the real world only to hide in a hole in the ground, so he came up with a compromise. He started the gateway growing just behind the ancient ruins of an Anasazi cliff dwelling that he had visited during college. It was nearly inaccessible and behind it was the Colorado Plateau, gigatons of solid sandstone-- room enough for a thousand underground secret bases. The ruins would provide him a hidden entrance and exit as well as a beautiful view of the wooded canyon they overlooked.

And last came his new digimon. He expanded the sim. The little glade was no longer the full extent of the Digital Dimension. It lay in a hanging valley over a wide plain of mixed grasslands and forests. New digimon of all types hatched out of the eggs that Greg brought out of nothingness. Not just the ones he needed for his campaign in the real world, but a full ecology of types and levels.

Renamon loved it. She happily returned to her old duties of moderator, judge, and peace-keeper, and the world prospered.

When the gate opened, Greg sent a Drimogemon and a few Digmon through to hollow out the rooms and tunnels of the base. He began to assemble the digimon and materials he would take through with him.

"It shouldn't be long now," he told Renamon. "Do you think the new Digital World will be able to get along without you for a while?"

"I-- I suppose so," she answered hesitantly.

"What is it?" he asked, surprised by the reluctant tone of her voice.

"Nothing," she said crisply, "you're my tamer and I go where you go."

He moved in front of her and stared directly into her eyes. "We're more than tamer and partner-- much more. Your happiness is important to me-- more important than anything else. Please," he raised one hand to stroke her cheek, "tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm just so happy here with you," she said nuzzling her cheek into his palm. "Your world-- the real world is-- ugly and dangerous. Do we really need to go back?"

He sighed and let his hand fall away. "I feel I have to. There are millions of people who have to be-- not _avenged_, no, I don't think vengeance does anything but breed more hatred and violence. But all those people-- I want their deaths to _mean_ something-- I want to make sure that something like that can never happen again."

Renamon gave a soft moan and sank to her knees. Greg dropped beside her, gripping her shoulders and peering desperately into her face. "Renamon, what's wrong?" He had never seen her cry. He didn't know if she could. But he knew by the soft, keening noises she was making that she was desperately unhappy. He hugged her tightly and stroked her head making comforting sounds and saying, "It's alright, it's alright," over and over again.

"No!" Renamon pushed him roughly away but didn't rise. She supported herself on her hands and hung her head low, refusing to look at him. "It's _not_ alright! Greg, don't you realize it even now? It was _my_ fault all those people died! It wasn't you or the digimon the government wanted to destroy. The bombs fell in the two places where I changed the world! I carelessly used the power you gave me and all those people died because of it!"

"No! NO! It was _not_ your fault!" Greg yelled at her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly swung her around to face him. He used one had to force her chin up so that she had to look him in the eyes. "They kidnapped me and you did your best to prevent it! You came and rescued me when the army was closing in! You saved me when Gwen was going to shoot me full of some damned chemical. You stopped me from making a big, big mistake with her-- _everything_ you did was good."

She tried to shake her head but Greg tightened the grip on her chin and leaned in closer. "The power to remake things was something _I_ gave to you. And Imade it so you would use it reflexively-- almost unconsciously. You just did what I _wanted_ you to. So am _I_ to blame for all those deaths?"

"No!" she said in a shocked voice. "You never meant for that to happen! How could you--"

"No, I didn't," he interrupted her. "I didn't know it would happen. I didn't _intend_ for it to happen--" He gave her chin a shake to emphasize his next words, "--and neither did _you! _You are _not_ to blame. _They_ are. The government, the military, the whole system that could make a decision to murder millions of people just because they were frightened of something they didn't understand!"

She stared at him for a while and then said, "That's not all. I wanted more than the little world you first made. I wanted to see new lands-- and that's when they started appearing. I must have started-- everything."

Greg shook his head. "You might as well blame the guy who came up with the original card game or TV series. An innocent desire for wider horizons? That hardly makes you guilty of mass murder. Right up until the missiles launched, anyone who had the chance to say, 'no, I'm not going to help kill all those people,' and didn't take it-- _they_ are the guilty ones."

Greg released her and stood up. Renamon didn't rise but kept her gaze on him. "I intend to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again. I want to make sure that those people are stripped of their power. And if they resist--" he shrugged. "But I want you to be happy more than anything else. If you want to stay here and rule this place for me, I'll be-- happy for you. And I'll come back to you when I've finished what I have to do."

"I don't want to be parted from you, Greg," Renamon said quietly.

He sighed and reached down and pulled her to her feet. "Then I'll stay here with you. I'll give up on my plans and let the real world go to hell in whatever way it wants to."

She hugged him tightly and kissed him and they walked down the valley together to watch the sunset. They made love under the stars and then returned to their pavilion and settled onto the silk sheets of their bed. She rested her head on his chest and said quietly, "If I made you stay, you'd always wonder what you could have done. Each disaster or war that happened-- you'd wonder if you couldn't have prevented it." He started to speak but she place a finger on his lips. "No-- you'll go, and I'll go with you. And when we've changed the world we will come back here-- or go to some other place. But we will be together. Always."

They lay together then without speaking, listening to each other breathing, until sleep took them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greg suffered some disorientation when they crossed over into the real world but it was over in a few minutes.

He got to work immediately. The first phase of his plan involved digimon training and information gathering. Both went badly. He'd never been interested in warfare, military history or even guns, and so was unprepared to learn exactly how many nuclear weapons were in the world. The realization that there were enough nukes on the planet to destroy every decent-sized city a dozen times over came as a real shock to him. Everything from ICBM's to artillery-fired battlefield nukes. Thousands and thousands of them in the US alone and hundreds aboard hard-to-reach submarines. He'd have to strike at them all simultaneously or risk another, probably larger, eruption of atomic weaponry. That meant that his digimon troops would have to be numerous and very well trained, disciplined, and coordinated.

They were hopeless.

They were instinctively individual fighters and only had the sketchiest notions of teamwork and cooperation. They also had the attention span of a five-year-old on a sugar high. After months and months of training, they were only just barely trustworthy to operate on their own.

Greg sent out squads on practice missions. Half of the digimon didn't come back. They lost interest or got distracted by something and simply wandered off. Some squads dissolved into squabbling fights among themselves.

Greg, in desperation, tried to create more tractable digimon. That's didn't go too well, either. He got creatures that were useless for fighting-- near mindless robots who would do exactly what they were told but nothing else. He let the other digimon use them for target practice and tried another approach.

He created subroutines that attached themselves to his digimon troops. They were fairly simple, just recordings of mission goals that replayed themselves into the consciousness of the digimon and gave them a mild, pleasant stimulus when they were cooperating and a mild, increasing to severe, negative feedback when they strayed from their orders.

Greg finished the coding and had the first squad march into and out of the gate in order to attach the new program. When the digimon reemerged from the vortex of the gate, Greg got a bit of a shock. Digimon were just the physical embodiment of computer code, so it made sense that the add-on code would also manifest itself physically, and it did.

It manifested itself as black metal rings around the necks of Greg's troops.

"Huh," Greg exclaimed quietly. The digimon patiently waited for his orders. He thought about trying again with different code but the months of frustrating failures weighed heavy on him, so he finally decided to send them out on a test mission as they were. He glanced at his watch as they disappeared up one of the long tunnels to a distant surface exit. It was getting late and Renamon would be waiting for him.

He made his way out to the ruins. One of the cliff dwellings had been cleaned and furnished and Renamon and he had fallen into the habit of meeting there to eat a light supper and relax after the stresses of the day.

"Is something wrong?" Renamon asked him after they had finished their meal. "You've been very quiet."

"I just have a lot to think about," he replied. He stood and looked out over the canyon which glowed crimson in the last rays of the setting sun.

"Can I help?" she asked coming to stand behind him and wrap her arms around him.

"No, I--" he paused and chuckled. "Well, maybe. Do you think I ought to get myself a cape and a pair of funky glasses?"

Renamon peered around his shoulder at him. _This must be one of his subtle jokes,_ she thought, and responded as she always did to humor she didn't understand: She took him seriously. After a moment's consideration she said, "I think you would look good in a cape."


	5. Chapter 15

**Author's Advisory:**

** The extended ****scene in this chapter is **_**Kyuubimon**_** x Greg. If that's too weird for your tastes, (and I guarantee it **_**will**_** be weird) head back on over to **_**A**__** Serpent in the Garden **_**now, before it's too late!**

* * *

Chapter 15 (unexpurgated)  
First Blood

"Digi-- _destined_?" Greg gaped at the children barring his way. "You've got to be kidding me! Look, it's nice that you kids made friends with some digimon. I'm glad-- _really_. But you could get hurt--"

"_You're_ the one who's going to get hurt," Melissa told him, "Or you can surrender if you want."

That's when Greg saw the goggles. Melissa had hung them around her neck because they fogged up when she wore them over her eyes or slipped off her glossy hair when she tried to use them as a headband. It was just too much for Greg and he began to laugh.

Oh god, you're _serious_! Oh, I-- hahaha! I-- you--" and he broke off into howls of laughter. His laughs shook him so much he had to use one hand to steady himself against Renamon's shoulder.

Nobody else was laughing. Melissa was scowling as fiercely as possible for a 13-year-old girl. She unsnapped her digivice from her belt. When Greg saw it, he stopped laughing. "What? Where the hell did you get _that?_"

"All of us tamers have one," she replied coldly as she raised the device. There were clicks of carabiners, rips of velcro, and pops of snaps as all of the kids readied their digivices.

"HOW _DARE_ YOU!" Renamon roared. The sudden violence of her scream of rage made everyone jump, including Greg. They saw she was addressing the digimon, not their tamers. "He is your _creator!_ How can you _betray_ him like this?"

The digimon had the good graces to look at least a little bit embarrassed. Melissa stepped forward. "Maybe he is-- but he made them fight just for _entertainment_. Then _you_ brought them into our world where everyone was against them and just when we thought people might be going to accept them-- _he_ went and started a war!"

Salamon took a step forward to be with her tamer. "Our loyalty is to our _tamers _now. When we saw Greg's scouts here yesterday we knew he was up to something bad and we've come to stop him."

Renamon's fists squeezed down into tight, hard masses making the leather of her arm-guards creak. "You miserable little chunk of corrupt data! You should thank him for--"

"No, Renamon," Greg interrupted her, "we don't have time to argue with a bunch of rogue digimon." He waved a dismissive gesture at the group. "Delete them but don't hurt the kids."

They were just a few children and their Rookie digimon-- but they were also tamers and partners who had been fighting wild digimon for nearly a year. Greg and Renamon were more powerful, there was no doubt about that, but the children had the advantage of numbers and, more importantly, hard-won experience. Greg had never used his digivice in a real fight.

The clatter of plastic triggers being pulled filled the air. Energy crackled and cute little Rookie digimon became fearsome-looking Champions in an instant. Others blurred and changed as speed, strength, or weapon modifiers charged them. Greg was definitely not laughing then. He belatedly fumbled for his digivice as Renamon charged directly into the mass of enemies facing her.

Greg had no time to pull up stats on _any_ of his opponents, let alone all of them. He was familiar with some of the types and their weaknesses but others were unknown to him. He'd just have to fight blind-- and certainly unprepared: The battle screen showed all of his cards slots to be empty. He fumbled through the menus of cards as blasts and impacts cracked through the air.

_Where is that damned blue card?_ He thought desperately. He had just found it when he heard a heavy impact and Renamon slid by him, plowing up the sandy ground of the riverbank. She was on her feet again almost instantly, leaping back into the fray but she was frazzled and injured-- no longer moving with her usual blinding speed.

Greg frantically clawed at his digivice and a card popped into the ready slot. But it was the wrong one. His finger had slipped in his haste and he'd selected a Damage Recovery card-- useful, but obviously a tactic that would only prolong the fight: Renamon was getting _hammered_. He triggered it anyway and then tried to re-select the blue card. It finally popped into the ready slot and he looked up for his partner.

Gatomon was forcing her back, slashing fistfuls of white fur from Renamon's chest and belly with every swipe of her razor claws. From one side, Veemon was charging in, going for a Vee-Headbutt and from the other side two more digimon that Greg didn't recognize were circling to attack Renamon's unprotected back. She was in deep trouble.

Greg pulled the trigger and Kyuubimon burst out of the whirling vortex of energy, screaming with rage. She slammed Gatomon back with a swipe of her head and cow-kicked Veemon end-over-end, but the two digimon that had nearly gotten behind her were able to get their attacks in on her open flank.

The reddish half-weasel, half-wolf one only got in one savage bite before Kyuubimon shook him off, but the other one that looked vaguely like a blue Ogremon struck her with a massive club of ice that knocked the wind out of her and made her stagger several steps to the side.

Greg glanced at his digivice again. There had to be something he could do to help her! But he saw that the energy bar had been reduced to 12%. He didn't know the cards well enough to know what he could get for so little that would do any good. He looked up again just as Kyuubimon took another savage club blow to the neck that interrupted her as she was raising energy for a Fox Tail Inferno attack. She screamed in pain and the ghostfire of her tails flickered and dimmed.

"Kyuubimon! Here! To me!" He yelled at her. He knew enough to see that she was loosing and that meant their only option was--

Kyuubimon cleared her opponents with one arching leap and Greg swung himself astride her shoulders. "Run!" Greg told her, "Get away!"

"No! I can--"

"Do it, damnit!" Greg yelled, and kicked her flanks like he would have done with a horse. She fled.

The tamers hadn't expected the fight to go as well as it did for them and were totally unprepared for Greg's retreat. There was confusion for only a few seconds as things got sorted out but by then they had lost the opportunity to run him down. Even injured, Kyuubimon was still a match for almost all of their digimon in a race.

Melissa watched her team's digimon return to their tamers and looked down joyfully into Gatomon's grinning face as she shook off her Champion form and became Salamon again.

"We won!" shouted a chunky blond boy as he swung Veemon up into the air with overflowing exuberance.

"Yes," said a soft-spoken, dark-haired girl as her Fangmon curled around her affectionately, "but they got away."

"Yeah," admitted Melissa as she lifted Salamon into her arms, "but _next_ time they won't"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greg was, by turns, ashamed, embarrassed and furious. "I got my ass handed to me by a pack of _children!_" he fumed, pacing the length of the control room back at the base. "Even worse, I dropped the damned map and now the Army Corps of Engineers is out there filling all of those new springs with concrete!" He gestured to the monitors. "Look, they're even sampling the water like they think I put poison in it or something!"

He realized he was ranting to no purpose. Only he and Kyuubimon were in the room and they both knew well enough what had happened.

Kyuubimon said nothing-- she just watched Greg as he paced.

Bokomon peeked around the edge of the door. "Sir? Will you be wanting dinner?"

Greg spun on on heel but stopped himself from yelling at the little digimon. _He_ hadn't done anything wrong, after all. "Maybe later."

"I could leave some cold meat and cheese in the--"

Kyuubimon rose to her feet and stepped to Greg's side. She bent her neck until her nose was nearly touching the floor and pressed the top of her head against Greg's hip. "Go away, Bokomon," she said softly.

"Yes Ma'am-- sorry Ma'am," and he ducked out of sight.

Greg slipped his arms around Kyuubimon's neck and leaned over, resting his chest and head on the soft cushion of her thick mane. "And worst of all," he sighed unhappily, "I failed _you_."

"What?" cried Kyuubimon, shaking off his embrace so that she could look him in the face. "_I_ was the one fighting--"

"We're a _team_," he interrupted her, "and my part is just as important as yours. You fought magnificently! One Champion against four? Plus another three energized Rookies? You did everything you could. It was _me_-- _I_ screwed up. I've never properly trained with you and I wasn't prepared for even the _possibility_ of a digimon attack."

"I don't blame you. How could you have known--"

"Well, I know _now!_ And _next_ time I'll be ready." He took her head in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "_We_ will be ready, I promise you," he whispered. "No more screwing around-- we'll train every day-- we'll hunt down those damned, traitorous digimon and you'll upload their data until you're stuffed full. And no more messing around with little parks and pools-- we'll start some _major_ changes-- things too big to stop!"

He lifted his head and opened his eyes. "What do you think?"

For an answer, she kissed him fiercely and joyously. He responded eagerly, and they shared a long moment that started with affection and became exploration. Greg had never kissed her in her Champion form and the differences were exciting and wonderful.

The first thing that went through Greg's mind was, _God, her tongue is _huge_-- and it feels-- really, _really_ good! _

Kyuubimon parted her jaws and Greg used his fingers as well as his mouth and tongue, tracing the long line of her lips and then stroking the rest of her tongue that he couldn't manage to take into his mouth. Even the feel of the ivory smoothness of her curving fangs as they brushed his cheek was delightful.

After a long while they parted, Greg flushed with excitement and the both of them breathing quickly.

Greg looked for some sign of emotion in Kyuubimon's face but it was even harder to read than Renamon's. Her cold blue eyes held his gaze with ferocious intensity.

"That was--" he began hesitantly. He was confused by how ardently he had responded to her kiss. She was so different from Renamon, so large-- so--

"Would you prefer me to devolve to my Rookie body?" She asked him in a near whisper, her muzzle close to his cheek. Just the tip of her huge tongue stroked the corner of his jaw.

"No!" Greg surprised himself by answering before he had any time to actually think about it. "No," he repeated more softly, "I-- liked that very much-- but--" he could hardly believe how embarrassed he felt. She was his friend-- his _partner_ no mater what form she wore-- _but_--

She stepped away from him to a point where he could see her entire body, from her pointed fox muzzle to the great fan of her nine tails. "Then, do you like me the way I am now?" she asked, looking almost coyly over her shoulder at him. "Do you think I'm beautiful?" She stretched her long, supple body, arching her back and making her muscles dance under her sleek fur. She was _undeniably_ beautiful and she knew it. She was showing off for him, teasing him with the sight of her lithe and powerful body and Greg's own body responded eagerly, no matter what reservations he held in his mind.

"You _are_ beautiful," Greg told her, "beautiful-- and just a little bit-- _frightening_," he finished, finally able to put what her was feeling into words.

Kyuubimon lowered her head and paced toward him, her shoulders and haunches rolling with immense strength at every step. Her eyes glowed and the ghost fire that clung to her flickered and brightened as she came closer and closer. "And," she asked her voice low and soft and terrible, "do you _like_ being frightened?"

"Oh God," Greg breathed, "I think I _do_--"

She sprang. She pounced on him like a cat with a mouse, knocking him down, one massive fore paw pressing down on his chest, her cool ghost fire tingling against his skin as she used her fangs to rip the clothes from his body. She stared down at his nakedness and her huge jaws parted and dipped and for an instant Greg thought she might actually devour him, tearing away his flesh as she had his clothes. It was her tongue that touched him, not her teeth, but the cry he gave as the hot, wet length stroked him might well have been mistaken for one of pain.

She kept him pinned down for a long time. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but lie there and let her do whatever she wanted with him, and that only increased his pleasure until he was still near frantic with the need for release. She paused and all he could feel for a moment was her hot breath washing across his belly and thighs.

Greg ached with need. "Oh, Kyuubimon, please-- _please_--" he _had_ to have one last touch of her wonderful tongue. One last, long, firm stroke and he would--

She moved suddenly and unexpectedly, her paw fell away from his chest and her lower jaw scooped up his hips as her muzzle slid up over his belly. Her mouth closed down on his lower body, lips and teeth squeezing tightly, just short of pain. And her tongue, trapped against him inside her mouth, twisted and writhed like a serpent until he came, screaming.

She held him until his shuddering convulsions ended and then let him slide from her mouth to lie on the floor, still gasping for air. She crouched down and thoroughly cleaned him with her tongue, her strokes soft and gentle. He caressed her head and neck as his skin cooled and dried, murmuring disconnected words of praise and affection.

She settled next to him, her head against his shoulder, her muzzle near his ear. "Now," she rumbled in a voice thick with emotion,"_you_ must please _me_."

Greg was so lost in his molten afterglow, that for a moment he didn't understand. Kyuubimon stretched herself as she rolled onto her side and gazed at him from half-closed eyes. He pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at her. _What can I possibly do for her that could give her anywhere near as much pleasure? _He wondered to himself.

But he found his hands traveling over her body as if by their own volition. He stroked and kneaded the thick muscles of her neck and shoulders. She rolled further and he transferred his attention to the great arc of her chest and down to the flat wall of her belly, using his arms and chest as well as his hands to rub against her. She sighed happily, wordlessly encouraging him.

Greg reached lower and Kyuubimon lifted one huge thigh, exposing herself to his touch. He stroked her soft, warm flesh and she shivered, the trembling of her muscles actually visible through the short satiny fur between he legs. He lowered his head, taking in her wonderful scent-- something that hadn't changed-- as her flesh turned slippery and wet.

Greg kissed and licked and sucked and stroked, feeling her body tense and then soften beneath him-- feeling her belly curve up and then drop away with each breath that came faster and shorter as he worked his fingers into her, rubbing and squeezing in all the ways he knew had pleased her before.

He felt no more reservations, no reluctance, only the desire to join with his lover. He was hard again, and moved between her legs, resting his hip on the firm, warm surface of her inner thigh as he guided himself into her. He actually _felt_ the deep rumble of satisfaction that escaped Kyuubimon's lips as a soft groan when he entered her.

She was so big it was hard to hold onto her as he began to thrust and she understood his difficulty, bringing her fore leg down behind his back to support him. Her paw pressed firmly against his ass and the cool sensation from her ghost fire spread until his whole lower body tingled with it. She moved in a slow, sensual rhythm her, long body undulating in time to his thrusts, her tails waving above them, their fiery tips casting eerie shadows across the floor.

Her belly snapped into tautness once, and then again. Her breath hissed through her fangs and then her jaws gaped, trembling. _Oh, no you don't,_ thought Greg wickedly. _I can make you ache for it, too! _He withdrew his massaging fingers and pushed himself fully into her, his hips pressed hard against her belly, and held himself there, immobile for several long moments.

Kyuubimon gave a half-moan, half-growl and pushed against Greg, urging him on. But he didn't move. She growled again, louder and clenched her paw over his ass. Greg slid his hands over her belly and tensed his upper body as if preparing for a powerful physical effort but then just lightly flexed his lower belly, barely moving within her-- just enough to tease her.

Kyuubimon had had enough. She snarled and bent her long neck over, her muzzle shoved between their bellies, forcing him halfway out of her, and her long tongue flashed out and circled the exposed base of his shaft. The shock of it made Greg's body jerk and he slid back in, carrying her tongue with him. They both cried out loud at the surge of pleasure that shot through them and Greg began thrusting again, faster and faster as her tongue slid around and in and out, making luscious, wet noises between them.

Suddenly, Kyuubimon threw her head back, spattering them both with warm fluid, and came with a roar that echoed down the corridors. All the gouts of ghost fire that clung to her body flared into brilliance, the one on the paw that supported Greg sending a rippling surge of energy through his body from where her claws clenched at him to where she squeezed down on him in ragged spasms.

Greg came with a yell of surprise and ecstasy that exploded out of him and died away into gasps and moans and he collapsed back into Kyuubimon's embrace.

They slowly slid apart, moaning quietly as their breathing slowed. Greg became aware of the cold, hard floor underneath him but was too satisfied, too tired to move. He fell into a light doze and then woke as Kyuubimon lifted him gently in her jaws. She set him down again on the soft mass of her tails that she had spread beneath him, and the gesture sent a surge of love through him, making his chest feel tight and warm.

_I _will_ change the world, _he vowed silently, _I'll change it for her-- to make her proud-- proud of-- _ he was asleep before he finished the thought.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next few months were very busy ones for Greg and Renamon. He made plans, did research, and restructured the base's defenses with a far different enemy in mind. Renamon scouted locations for their next "events" and patrolled for hostile digimon, mostly in her Champion body. She made contact with wild digimon and got what information she could from them about the numbers and locations of tamers. Sometimes they willingly told her what they knew, sometimes they resisted.

And every spare moment, they trained. Greg got to the point where he knew the card menus so well he could sometimes select the ones he wanted with his eyes closed. He knew exactly how much energy each one cost and what the best combinations were against various opponents. They fought against real opponents, too-- digimon controlled by the black rings would attack fiercely and without restraint if ordered to do so.

Then the day came when Greg's first new plan was ready to be put into execution. They traveled the first part of their journey via the Digital World, emerging from a computer in a Doctors Without Borders aid station near Kasr, Egypt in the early evening. They slipped out of the compound and into the surrounding desert, meeting with a group of digimon that had been dispatched earlier, for the second leg of their journey.

The Pteramon flew low over the dessert to avoid being seen or detected on radar even though Southwest Egypt was one of the most deserted and desolate places on Earth. Their goal was near the border with Sudan and the region was famous for sudden, vicious little wars. The locals were trigger-happy and Greg didn't want to spoil the "event" with fighting.

They reached the mountains of the Gilf Kebir in less than an hour and swooped in for a landing. Greg hopped down, ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, and tried to wrench his clothes back into some semblance of order.. _Note to Self, _he thought, _Get a helmet and flight suit before riding on the back of a jet-powered dinosaur again._

Renamon simply shook herself briefly and all her fur settled back into its usual sleekness.

"Alright," Greg said, unfolding a small map. "We start here and work our way along the foothills--" he lowered the map and peered into the distance. There was just enough moonlight to make out a distant peak. "--that way. Do your thing, lover!"

Renamon bent and touched the ground. The sands of the Sahara began to ripple and churn.

They moved through the desert, stopping every mile for Renamon to trigger the start of another couple of transformations. They had learned that the changes she triggered were limited. They could only transform around a hundred square miles of land at most-- less if there were a lot of features that soaked up the energy. But she could direct the shape of the changes and to maximize the area they could effect in one night, she was starting long, narrow strips starting from the path they were taking that rippled out into the distance. By doing this, they were transforming an area of the desert about two hundred miles long. The width of the area was only limited by how long Renamon could keep triggering changes.

The sky began to lighten in the East and she still didn't seem to be tiring.

"Better than I could have hoped for!" Greg grinned as he looked back at the way they'd come. The previously bare, mountains were clothed in a dense forest. Cedars and firs covered the upper slopes and oaks and fruit trees further down. The open meadows and glades were ringed with berry bushes and all manner of edible plants, filling the air with heavy, sweet scents. Waterfalls cascaded down the jagged cliffs and made the dry ravines into swiftly flowing rivers filled with fish. A landscape that had not known more than a dozen rainfalls in the last century had become a lush, green eden. Already the valley below was filling. In a few days it would be a large lake and the water would flow out the other side and into the desert-- making for oases even beyond the bounds of what they'd directly created.

"We can probably cover another twenty miles or so before it gets too light. I don't want to risk getting spotted by a satellite," Greg said, glancing at his watch. "You're not getting tired of carrying me, are you?"

"I'm not tired at all, Greg. What about you?"

"Me neither. In fact, I feel-- I don't know-- is 'exhilarated' the word I'm looking for? Just _look_ at all that! There's no _way_ they'll be able to ruin it. They'd go broke in a week paying for the bombs, napalm, and jet fuel if they tried!

For once, Greg's optimism was justified. The Egyptians didn't even _try_ to erase the new landscape. They _did_ try to keep everyone out of the area but it was simply too large to patrol effectively. At first it was a few curious tourists and their guides who had come to see the Cave of the Swimmers. Then, as the news spread, the more adventurous (or desperate) types made their way to the new land overflowing with food and water.

The United States offered the Egyptian military tankers full of Agent Orange, but as the herbicide couldn't be gotten to the area before hundreds, perhaps thousands of civilians had taken up residence, and Egypt politely declined the offer.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bokomon set a tray of sushi down on the table between Renamon and Greg. As usual, Renamon scooped up all the inarizushi in one huge hand and began popping then into her mouth the way a person might do with popcorn kernels. Greg picked up a piece of unagi and chewed it while scrolling through newscasts on his little notebook computer.

"How are things going, Sir?" Bokomon asked.

"Pretty good," Greg said in a tone of voice that only betrayed a little bit of surprise."Oh, they're still a _long_ way from electing me King o' the World, but at least there are some people who are actually wondering out loud if this is such a bad thing. And a couple even said that maybe I'm not such a _thoroughly_ evil villain after all."

Bokomon was shocked. "You're not a villain at all, Sir! You're only doing good things for people and digimon alike!"

Greg nodded and took another piece of sushi. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Maybe you should tell that to--" he scrolled down the dozens and dozens of articles and videos that were still howling for his blood. "--how about Greenpeace? They say I've '_...destroyed a fragile and unique desert ecosystem_.' Or Al Jazeera-- they're accusing me of '_...insidious Cultural Imperialism..._' Huh-- I wonder how they came up with _that?"_

"I'm sure they will eventually realize that the world will be a much better place if they elect you King!" Bokumon said with conviction.

Greg spit out his mouthful of sushi. "What!? *cough* No, no, Bokomon, I was only kidding about that. _Ghod_-- King o' the World? What a miserable job _that_ would be! I just want to make the world better-- a place where people don't have to be afraid or hungry or miserable-- where there won't be any reasons to ever go to war again."

"I don't see how anyone could object to that!"

Greg sighed again, watching more stories scroll by on the screen. "Yeah-- but it seem like damned near everyone _does_. I guess I'm just going to have to try harder to convince them. Time to bring it closer to home, I think."


	6. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:**

** It's been a while since I put up one of these chapters. I hope this one makes up for the delay!**

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

Chapter 23  
One Perfect Day

General Greenwaldt took his usual sidewalk table at the café and moments later his usual coffee appeared. He lifted it off the top of the digimon's shell, and couldn't help wondering, again, how a creature with no apparent hands could be such a good waiter. The coffee was perfect and went a long way to easing his discomfort at patronizing a restaurant named The Ham and Eggs Café that was run by a giant egg with feet and a slightly anthropomorphized boar.

He used the café as an unofficial office in the mornings and was used to all sorts of people dropping by to talk about the various business going on in the town. As might be expected in a village full of politicians, there were many different factions making many different plans for the future. The General had brought together a good group of military men under his influence and was courted by many of the other groups as a powerful ally.

That day he expected to be approached by the President-- _ex_-President, he reminded himself-- who was desperate to gain some influence with a faction-- _any_ faction, but his first visitor that morning was someone wholly unexpected.

"Good morning, General," Greg said cheerfully, "mind if I join you?" While the General was still gaping in surprise, Greg dropped his backpack next to the table and pulled out a chair and sat down. Renamon didn't sit, but stood behind her tamer with her arms folded across her chest, her cool gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

"Why are you here?" The General demanded, bluntly.

"I hear they make a great sausage omelet," Greg said, glancing at the menu, distractedly.

"I don't have time for your bullshit," the general snapped, "are you here to help us or harm us?"

"General," Greg sighed, "you have nothing _but_ time. You may not have realized it yet, but because all of you in this world are now digital constructs, you won't age or even die-- unless you're killed or-- well, I'll let you find out for yourselves. Anyway, forever is a very, _very_ long time."

"You've underestimated us before," the general said, though in a more subdued tone of voice. "We're already making plans--"

"Plans to help those people who are still so frightened of this place that they won't leave the platform at the train station? Plans to explore this world? It's been _days_ and nobody's even been as far as the hot springs in the mountains above town!"

The General glared at him for a moment and then growled out, "_Escape_ plans."

Greg laughed out loud. "Oh ghod, have you started a tunnel yet? I'll save you some trouble, General. You're on an island about half the size of Australia, surrounded by about 500 miles of ocean on every side. If you sail North far enough, you'll just come back to the South coast and vice-versa. This is a self-contained, rather small universe-- there _is _no escape."

"If there's a way _in_, there's a way _out_," Greenwaldt persisted.

"Tell that to a black hole," Greg said.

"So-- you're staying with us, then?" the general asked, watching keenly for Greg's reaction.

"Ah-- not _so_ stupid are you?" Greg said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "I suppose there could possibly be a couple of ways that people _might _find out of here if they are smart enough, persistent enough and prove themselves to be worthy of--"

"Is that what we are to you?" Greenwaldt growled, "rats in a maze?"

"Oh, that's harsh!" Greg grinned. "Think of it more like a game! You might even enjoy it."

"You arrogant little prick! You're going to pay for treating me like this!" the general bellowed, going red in the face, "I'm going to _make_ you pay!"

Greg gaped for a moment in surprise before breaking into laughter, "Oh ghod, that's hilarious! Good luck with _that!_"

Greenwalt snapped. He rose, threw aside the table, and lunged for Greg, all in one movement. Neither he nor any of the crowd that had gathered saw Renamon move. She just seemed to appear between the two men and there was the sound of a heavy impact. Greenwaldt smashed through tables and chairs as he rolled over and over, finally hitting a planter of flowers that separated the dining area from the street. He tried to rise but the world swam around him and he fell back against the planter, a thin trickle of blood dripping from one nostril.

"Sorry about that, General," Greg said in a cheerful voice that belied his words, "Renamon can get a little over-protective at times." Greg picked up his backpack and shouldered it. "I think we should be going now, anyway. Don't get up-- I know the way out."

The crowd parted for the two of them like they were made of red-hot metal.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I'm sorry to have started out our day together by smashing up a restaurant," Greg said as they hiked along a path that lead up into the mountains above the town, "but I needed to plant that little bit of information about the hidden ways out of this world. Good thing the general played right into my hands and about half a hundred people were eavesdropping . Well-- nothing but fun from now on, I promise."

"Oh, that's all right," Renamon said. "Getting to slug the guy who had you kidnapped _was_ fun. I hope you noticed how much restraint I used."

"No missing body parts, hardly any blood--" Greg grinned, "I'd say you were practically demure."

After an hour of walking they came to a quaint, rambling building at the mouth of a hanging valley. Renamon paused and carefully sniffed the air. "Hot springs?" she asked Greg.

"Yep! Springs, baths, good food, massages-- I thought it would be a good way to relax," he said. "In fact, I happen to know that they have a very good sushi chef who makes terrific _inarizushi_ and-- hey! Wait for me!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greg picked up a bit of sushi rice, made a little ball, and flicked it at Renamon, who had leaned back from the table. She snapped it out of the air and held it in her mouth, rolling it between her tongue and teeth for a while before she swallowed it.

"That's it," she sighed, "If I eat another bite, I'll explode!" She patted her stomach in satisfaction. "Would it be slothful to take a nap before noon?"

Greg shook his head, "This is our vacation-- we can do what we like, sinful or not!"

"Oh, good!" Renamon said, and crawled across the room on all fours to the futon and flopped down on her side. "Join me?"

"In a minute," he replied. The room had grown warm as the sun climbed into the sky, so Greg slid aside the screens that served as its outer wall, revealing a large porch and a spectacular view of the valley below. A cool, gentle breeze made the temperature perfect and set the wind-chimes hung along the eaves to tinkling softly. He summoned one of the inn's digimon to clear away the remains of their meal and left instructions that they were not to be disturbed except for something dire. By the time he knelt next to the futon, Renamon was breathing slowly and deeply. He gazed down at her lovingly, slipped out of his kimono, and lay down next to her. She mumbled something in her sleep and slipped her arm around him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Renamon woke a while later and swiveled her ears, sniffed, and then let her senses open to the world. There was no threat-- everything was peaceful and quiet. She nuzzled the crook of Greg's neck and drew in his scent, so comforting and familiar. She let her gaze wander over his body, so different from hers-- so delightfully strange, even after all this time. She lightly traced the little interlaced muscles at the side of his ribcage and then stroked the blocky shapes of his abs and downward--

She hadn't meant to wake him but she couldn't resist stroking him as she lightly kissed and nibbled his neck and shoulders. Greg was half erect by the time he was aware of what was going on. He turned his head up and Renamon's mouth met his and his shaft surged in her hand, quickly growing to its full length. She continued to stroke him lightly and delicately as their tongues slid around each other and their lips touched and rubbed and glided together.

Even as gentle as she was, Greg's need soon grew insistent and Renamon released his so that he could roll over to face her. She turned, too, and lifted her tail and one thigh, showing him what she wanted. He slid his arms around her and pulled himself snuggly against the long sweep of her elegantly shaped back, his hips pressed against the beautiful twin swells of her rump, his shaft settling between her cheeks.

With one hand, Greg combed his fingers through her thick ruff, finding a hard nipple hidden beneath the soft fur. He pulled and tweaked it gently, eliciting a groan of pleasure from his partner. With the other hand he guided himself between her legs, pressing the tip of his shaft against the warm, silky flesh of her lips. With two fingers, he spread her lips apart, feeling the sudden heat and moisture as he pressed forward. He pushed against the taut muscles, sliding in inch by inch. Renamon tried to relax her lower body but each movement of Greg within her sent a pulse of pleasure through her that made her tense up and hiss through her teeth.

"Are you alright?" he asked her after the third time her muscles clenched down on him so tightly he couldn't move.

"Yes!" she hissed, "yes, yes, yes-- _don't stop!_"

Greg resumed thrusting while using his hand as well. He rubbed her sweet little bit of flesh against his shaft with his thumb, while stroking and stretching her warm, wet lips with his fingers. She gasped and writhed as he slid deeper and deeper into her body, the tremors of her muscles making the highlights on her fur shimmer and dance. When, at last, his belly pressed hard against her ass she turned her head up for a wild, needful kiss. He responded just as vigorously, squeezing her breast and kneading her lower belly with his hands.

He began rocking his hips, sliding in and out of her with long, powerful strokes. She shivered and moaned, her tail waving above them both like a banner, its tip dipping to brush softly against his naked flank and thigh.

Renamon came suddenly and with no warning. One moment she was moving in sync with Greg's rhythm, sighing and crooning wordlessly to him, and the next she was bucking wildly against him and snarling as her body shook with the surprising strength of her climax. Greg tightened his grip and rode out his lover's wild thrashing. Usually, the feel of Renamon coming brought on his own climax but this one had been so swift and violent that he remained hard and unsatisfied.

After Renamon had collapsed, gasping for air, he began to thrust again, slowly and gently. She sighed and snuggled her butt against his belly, falling back into the easy rhythm of his strokes. In contrast to the urgency of the first part of their lovemaking, the second was relaxed and comfortable. Greg stroked all the parts of his partner's body that he could reach. He kissed her face and muzzle and lips and neck and it was quite some time before his belly tightened and he spilled into her in a long, achingly sweet release that made him shiver and take his breath in sharp little gulps of air.

They shifted, intertwining their bodies, and drifted off into sleep once again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

When they finally got up it was late afternoon. They showered and then Greg led Renamon down to the massage rooms. Two granite Gotsumon were waiting for them, towels draped over their arms.

"I'm not sure about this," Renamon said doubtfully.

"I've done it for you often enough," Greg said, "and these guys are experts."

"Yes, but I _trust_ you," she grumbled, looking down at the rocky little Gotsumon masseurs.

"Don't worry, they're very professional," he reassured her.

"I suppose--" she said as she lay down on the massage table. And then to the Gotsumon, "Just one finger goes someplace I don't like-- and you're _gravel_, understand?"

"Of _course_, Ma'am," the Gotsumon said, sounding a bit offended.

A few minutes into the massage and _Greg_ was having doubts. Not about the skill of the masseuses-- they were just as skillful as he'd promised. Their hard, granite fingers seemingly able to put just the right amount of pressure exactly where it was needed. No, what bothered him was the noises that Renamon was making. She was gasping and giving out soft little moans of pleasure like she was-- well-- getting something _more_ than a massage. But as his own muscles were being tended just as well, it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

At the finish the Gotsumon rubbed scented oils into Greg's skin and Renamon's fur, Renamon first sniffing at several bottles until she found one she liked enough to choose for them both.

"A walk before dinner?" Greg suggested as they left the room.

"Mn-hmn," she nodded, her eyes still somewhat unfocused. "Oh, that felt so good!" She stretched luxuriously, her arms up, her hands combing through the rear of her neck ruff.

"Or maybe we could go back to our room," Greg said, watching her appreciatively.

She grinned wickedly at him and prolonged her stretch, pointing one foot and lifting her leg, just so-- turning it into a long, graceful sweep of powerful curves.

"Or maybe I'll attack you right here in the hallway."

"Haven't had enough of me, yet?" she purred.

"Never," he said.

Renamon glanced around and then grabbed a fistful of the front of Greg's robe and pulled him toward a door marked, "linens". She shoved him inside and closed the door behind them both.

"Well, I not complaining--" Greg began but Renamon silenced him with one finger laid across his lips.

"No talking," she whispered, "you can't make any noise at all-- that's the rules. As soon as you do, I stop, okay?" Greg nodded. Renamon parted the front of his robe, her hands sliding down his chest and sides and hips and thighs as she sank to her knees.

"You skin is so soft," she breathed, "the way the oil makes your muscles gleam is so beautiful." she bent close to him, drinking in his scent, her warm breath washing over his lower belly. She cupped him in one hand and trailed the tip of her tongue along his length. His breath hissed between his teeth but otherwise, he made no sound.

"Mmm-- I love making you hard-- feeling you swell and grow as I touch you." She teased him with her tongue for a while longer and then took him into her mouth. He bit down on his lower lip trying desperately to remain silent. Somehow the struggle magnified his pleasure and the surge of sensation from the touch of Renamon's velvety lips made his head swim.

Her hands were busy, too, stroking his abs, thighs and ass, alternately squeezing, caressing and then just trailing her claws along his skin, barely touching. Greg's face was screwed up as if he were in pain, his breath came hard and fast through his nose-- he didn't dare open his mouth.

Renamon slowly drew away, looking up at Greg's nearly pained expression for a moment before engulfing him again and twisting her tongue around his length like a snake and making it writhe.

The shock of sensation was beyond Greg's endurance and he gasped out, "Ah, ah _ah!_ Oh ghod! Ah, _lover!_"

"Ohh--" Renamon said in mock dismay as she pulled away, "You spoke--" She cradled his shaft in one hand and rippled her fingers along it, "--that means--" she could feel him jerk and pulse in her grip and knew that one last caress would push him over the edge. "--it's the-- _end._" She leaned back and closed her eyes and gave him several swift strokes.

Greg cried out again and his flailing hand knocked a pile of towels from the shelf behind him as he came. His hot fluid spattered Renamon's muzzle, neck and ruff, matting her fur in a sticky mess.

Renamon opened her eyes and looked up at him, licking the side of her muzzle clean with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue. "Hand me a towel and I won't tell anyone you lost the game," she smirked.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

After another shower, they went out into the formal garden where a table had been set for dinner in an open-air pavilion hung with multi-colored lanterns. The smell of roasting meat flavored the air.

"I hope they've cooked an entire horse!" Renamon murmured, "I'm _starving!_"

"I am sorry, Renamon-sama," a little digimon waiter said, overhearing her, "We only have beef, chicken, pork, and lamb. We didn't know you preferred--"

"That's all right," Greg interrupted him, "We'll be fine. If the chow-hound here wants a horse for desert, she can run it down herself!"

"Careful," Renamon growled playfully, "I might just start with a big bite of wise-ass for an appetizer!"

They laughed and chatted through dinner, enjoying the meal as well as the lively music that several Gazimon banged out on unusual instruments. The inn's chef endeared himself to Renamon by presenting her with a tiny chocolate cake for desert-- in the shape of a horse.

"Dibs on the hooves," Greg chuckled, "They're the best part!"

After dinner they returned to their room to pick up a robe for Greg and several large, soft towels for them both. "The hot pools are on the other side of the garden-- men's, women's, and one very private group for couples-- but since we're the only guests we can have our pick." Greg said as they left their room and strolled down the polished wood of the porch toward the hot springs.

The moon was rising, full and golden, as they eased themselves into the largest pool in the couple's area. Renamon's fur floated out around her, her ruff forming a large buoyant pad around her head as she sank in to her neck. Below the water, her tail had expanded into a thick torpedo shape that wavered in the slight current of the pool. Greg noticed this and began quietly humming _Yellow Submarine_. Renamon shut him up by the expedient method of kissing the living hell out of him.

"Whoa!" he gasped when they finally broke off the kiss. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

"Hot?," Renamon grinned evilly, "that would be _me_."

Greg laughed, "Yeah, you sure-- are-- " he trailed off as Renamon rose up out of the water and swung one leg over him where he sat, leaning against the edge of the pool. Water cascaded out of her fur and her ruff sleeked down, molding itself to the swells of her hidden breasts. The intensity of her icy gaze took Greg aback for a moment and then she was in his lap, wrapped around him, her mouth on his neck, licking, kissing and nibbling. He couldn't help but respond. The heat of the water still trapped in her fur soaked into him and he began to feel a little light-headed as he held her tightly, caressing her long torso.

Renamon rubbed her belly against Greg's with his thickening shaft trapped between them until he was fully erect, and then she lifted her hips guided him into her as she lowered herself again. She rocked her hips and squeezed down on him while making a deep rumbling sound in her chest and writhed against him with a fierce purpose, using all the subtle control of her muscles she could command.

Even with her, Greg had never felt anything like it before. Bursts of pleasure like electric shocks shot through him and he would have thrashed the water into a welter of ripples and waves if Renamon's weight and unbreakable grip on the edge of the pool hadn't held him pinned down beneath her. He could barely think for the sheer primitive sensations coursing through his body but he managed to gasp out, "Renamon-- what-- what-- are you--"

She lifted her head from his neck and he saw that her face was pulled into a snarl, all her terrible fangs exposed. "You--," she growled, "my partner, my tamer-- my _master!_" With each word she clenched down on him, rippling and squeezing in hot pulses of ecstasy. "_Come_ for me! Fill me with your life, your heat, your _soul!_"

Greg erupted into her, screaming.

Immediately, Renamon shuddered and cried out and her tail broached the surface of the pool, throwing a fan of spray into the air that caught the moonlight and sparkled-- looking almost as if she had launched a Diamond Storm attack. The sheer beauty of it all as her back arched and her powerful body trembled against his completely stopped any of Greg's rational thoughts and he let the moment wash into him and through him-- one perfect moment that seemed to last an eternity.

They dragged themselves from the pool before the heat and their own exhaustion caused them to pass out. Renamon shook herself, throwing off a fine spray of droplets and then summoned her inner strength and began to glow. Her Power Paw flames rippled outward from her feet and hands across her body and as they went, small billows of steam wafted from her body until her fur was completely dry.

Greg was slowly toweling himself off, still watching his beautiful partner when the first missiles struck.


	7. The Gift

**Author's Note:**

**An extra chapter that occurs between Chapter 24 and the Epilogue of A _Serpent in the Garden. _**

**Written as a prize for megarock1018 because he was my 100th reviewer. **

**Luckily for you- he wanted me to share this with everyone else.**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The Gift

Most inhabitants of the Digital Dimensions, digimon, human, and otherwise, were content to stay near their homes and not go wandering simply for adventure's sake. Those that needed to travel, such as merchants and business people, found that the sleek and speedy Trailmon got them to their destinations with a minimum of fuss and discomfort.

There were a few who used the gates. Curious youngsters, adolescents on a dare, traders in odd and unusual items, and those who simply felt a _need_ to wander were the most common sorts. Even these "travelers" had no idea how many gates existed, or had any reliable way of finding them. But over time, they acquired a feel for discovering them. An archway that was just a bit different-looking, a staircase where there didn't need to be one, or, in this case, a pair of birch trees that wove their upper branches into the prefect shape of a Gothic arch.

"There it is!" Greg pointed and then moved his head aside to let Renamon sight along his finger.

"Yes," she agreed, "that _has_ to be a gate. But are you sure it will lead us where you want to go?"

"Pretty sure," Greg said, "A gate made of something living- still growing- I have a good feeling about it."

They crossed the meadow and walked between the trees. There was also a certain attitude a traveler needed to keep in mind to make use of a gate. Too much attention paid to the surroundings and it wouldn't work. Just enough willingness to accept something unexpected was the mindset necessary and Greg and Renamon had long ago become masters of the technique.

On the other side of the trees the sky was dim and the ground rocky- and incomplete.

"Yeah," Greg said quietly as he gazed out over the emptiness in front of them. It felt like a place where one needed to whisper for some reason. "We made it. The _edge_-" Before them, new terrain grew out of nothingness. Earth and rocks first, and then small plants began to take shape. Above them, sky formed out of black space and clouds faded into existence.

Renamon looked on in awe as the bare engine of creation did its work. She'd seen it before on a smaller scale but that made the display not one bit less impressive. "This is where we've been heading for?" She asked Greg without taking her eyes off the astounding vista in front of her, "Why?"

"Because here I can get _hold_ of things," Greg said unhelpfully, "Here I can-" He closed his eyes, stretched out his hands, and began moving his fingers as if molding invisible clay. Energies began to flicker between his fingers. They crackled and swirled and finally condensed into a small metallic object.

Greg released the breath he had been holding and held out the object to Renamon. It was a simple oval of gold incised with lines that looked like a cross between Celtic spirals and the traces on a circuit board. In the center of the oval was set a perfect star sapphire that matched the color of Renamon's eyes. "For you," Greg said.

She took the pendant and the sturdy gold chain slithered out of Greg's hand and swung freely beneath hers. She knew it wasn't a simple piece of jewelry. The fact that they'd traveled so long to get to the one place where Greg could form it out of nothingness would have told her that much. But the tingle of energy she felt as she touched it was absolute proof. She looked the question at Greg.

"I'll show you," he said, "Here- lift up your ruff and I'll put it on." She did so and he clasped the chain behind her neck and stepped back. She let the heavy mass of fur fall back into place and the pendant disappeared from sight. "Now," Greg continued as he stepped back from his partner, "think of being Kyuubimon- how you _feel_ in your Champion form."

Every once in a while Greg got a strange idea and Renamon learned that it was best to humor him on those occasions. Sometimes it lead to nothing, sometimes- there was a swirling eruption of energy and Kyuubimon stood there, gasping in surprise. "What- how- how did-"

Greg clapped his hands in glee. "Ha! It worked, it worked! Try a mod! Try Hyperwings!"

The giant kitsune nodded and brought up a mental image of how that modification card felt when it took hold of her. Almost instantly, six shimmering wings of force flared out from her shoulders and she leaped from the ground and into a steep climb. She flew a loop and returned to the ground and, at a thought, her wings vanished. A second later she was in her Rookie body because she needed arms to hug her lover with.

"It's wonderful, Greg!" she said, "But-"

"But?"

"But, _why?_ All I need is your touch on my digivice-"

"Yes, but with the pendant you _don't! _You can do it all yourself!"

Renamon's smile left her face. "Are you trying to tell me something? Are you going to-"

Greg finally caught up with her train of thought. "Oh! No, no! Nothing like that! I just wanted you to- well- to have your own choice in the matter. My digivice will still work on you and-"

"And with you, I have a second pair of eyes on the fight. You always seem to know just the right mod to give me or just the right moment to digivolve," Renamon told him seriously. "We're a _team_. And we work best that way."

Greg nodded all through her speech, "Yes, I agree. But-" he shrugged, "-but I just wanted you to have the _choice_."

Renamon still couldn't believe he'd spent so much time and effort to make what amounted to a philosophical point but she knew he'd done it out of love and respect for her, and that was all that mattered.

"You silly man," she said and kissed him quite thoroughly. She broke of the kiss eventually and leaned back, gazing into his eyes fondly for a moment. "I'm going to rape you now, okay?"

Greg grinned, "Oh- okay. If you _must_."

Renamon glanced around. "How about something a little more comfortable than the ground?"

Greg swept his hands up and dozens of oriental carpets drifted down from the sky to settle in an overlapping mass followed by a rain of silken cushions of all sizes. Banners and flags sprang up around the periphery of the gaudy love-nest along with low tables of topped with light food, drink, brushes, bottles of oil and perfumes, silk cords, and all manner of playful implements.

"Show off," Renamon growled softly at him.

"Be prepared," Greg grinned back at her, "that's my motto!"

Renamon cocked her head in thought for a moment and then lead him onto the mass of cushions and pushed him down onto them. He grinned up at her.

She stood over him, coolly evaluating his smug expression and then rumbled in her voice of velvety strength, "Oh? And are you prepared for _this?"_

Greg's skin tingled as a surge of power flowed from Renamon's pendant. Suddenly, there stood before him _five_ leering fox-women. He lost his nonchalant expression. "Holy shit," he whispered, suddenly realizing what sort of afternoon was in store for him.

They pounced.

Greg's digital, reformed body was even stronger than his partner's Rookie form if not as fast- but he had no chance against all five aliases at once. He struggled against them because- well, because it was _fun_- and he knew Renamon expected him to. But it wasn't long before he was pinned down, one Renamon on each limb and one kneeling between his legs with her hands on her hips and an outright _leer_ on her face. "Well," she purred, "what shall we do with him, girls?" The one sitting on his right arm leaned over and nibbled lightly on his neck. "Eat him up," she suggested in a breathy whisper. The two on his legs looked at each other and tightened their grip on his ankles. "Make a wish!" they said simultaneously. The one on his left simply shifted her position until Greg felt a wet warmth against his fingers. Greg obligingly began to stroke her silky flesh and she settled lower, making a soft, satisfied noise in her throat.

"No fair starting without us!" said the Renamon on Greg's right leg and stretched herself forward until her ruff brushed Greg's thigh. "Ooh- what do we have here?"

"I hope you're going to share," the Renamon on his left leg said, closing in from the other side.

"Looks like there's enough for us _all_," the Renamon between his legs said, also moving closer.

Greg began to harden even before they touched him, his shaft thickening, lengthening, and rising into the warm gusts of breath that puffed down from the three Renamon's mouths. Greg groaned in anticipation and the Renamon on his right arm leaned down if front of his face and stared into his eyes. He waited for her to say something or make a move but she just looked at him. "What?" he finally asked.

"Oh- I just want to see the look on your face when they-"

Greg nearly screamed as the three long, hot tongues circled his shaft. His hands clenched convulsively, which seemed to please the Renamon on his left a great deal. She pressed down harder against his hand, threw her head back and moaned. The Renamon on his right began to work her way down over his chest and abs, kissing, licking, and nibbling until she pushed her muzzle into the midst of the others and added her own tongue to the squirming wet mass that twisted around Greg's rock-hard shaft.

The sensations that flooded Greg's body were like nothing he had ever experienced before. He tried, uselessly, to thrust his hips up into the incredible maelstrom of muscular, dripping caresses that had reduced his consciousness to a single red glow of bestial lust.

Surprisingly, it was the Renamon on Greg's left that first gave out a full-throated cry of climax. She jerked and shuddered and fragmented into bright rays of light that shimmered off into the distance. Greg hardly noticed because the pressure that was building up in his lower belly was becoming unbearable. All the remaining Renamon redoubled their efforts and it wasn't long until Greg erupted into their midst, their busy tongues spattering the sudden gush of hot fluid over themselves as well as Greg's belly and legs.

They lifted their dripping muzzles as Greg's cries subsided and grinned at each other. In their smug satisfaction, they neglected to keep full pressure on Greg's limbs and he suddenly wriggled free and grasped the hips of the one that had been on his right. It surprised all of them. He had just had a _monumental_ orgasm and shouldn't have been able to-

But he was. He shoved her tail aside and slid into her with one powerful thrust. She was already wet and soft and ready for him, excited by the sheer erotic energy of the first encounter, but, ready as she was, she still gasped and jerked as he filled her with a shaft just as thick and hard as it had been at the beginning.

The other three exchanged startled looks but didn't interfere. In fact, one licked her muzzle clean, leaned over her double's back, and met Greg's mouth with her own. He returned her kiss with a greedy, eager energy as he pounded into her twin's tight flesh.

Soon, the Renamon beneath him began to gasp, her ragged breaths becoming a moaning repetition of her lover's name as she pressed back hard against his rapid, forceful strokes. The muscles of her back and shoulders bunched into thick masses as she crouched low and tore at the cushions and carpets with convulsive movements of her sharp black claws. With one last shriek of pleasure, she burst into fragments of light and vanished.

Greg fell forward into the arms of the Renamon who had been kissing him. He didn't hesitate at all, but grabbed her behind one knee and pulled hard, tumbling her onto her back. The other two scrambled to get out of the way as he lifted her hips, put one leg between hers and pushed his shaft down into her welcoming body. He pulled her thigh against his chest, squeezing and kneading the long thick muscles as he rocked his hips. She hooked her heel over his shoulder stretched herself out, arms above her head. She arched her back, showing off her lean, graceful body at the same time as she admired the play of light and shadow across the rippling muscles of his torso.

The other two watched their third self luxuriating in the vigorous attentions of their tamer and decided that if they couldn't easily participate, they could at least provide Greg with some extra visual stimulation. They knelt together in front of him and began stroking and kissing each other's bodies. They stretched and twisted their bodies to display the supple power and flexibility that they knew he loved, and his reaction was quite satisfying.

Greg's breath was rapid and labored but he made a heroic effort to speak. "You- all of you," he gasped, "are- are- utterly- _magnificent!_"

The third Renamon came with a snarling roar of passion. Her torso pulled into a tight curve, her belly muscles snapped into hard ridges, and her whole body shook with the violent tremors of her climax. The feel of her clenching down on him in her passion drove Greg over the edge and he began to flood her with a jetting stream of thick cum.

Before he had expended himself, she broke into spray of shimmering light and the last of his fluid arched into the air to spatter on the carpet before the remaining pair of Renamon who were frozen and staring at him, wide-eyed.

Greg sat back on his heels to catch his breath and they couldn't help noticing that he was still full and hard and showed no signs of softening. "How can you-" began one of them. But the other took a more direct route and shoved her twin aside, crying, "_My_ turn!" and leaped on him. He fell back and she impaled herself on him, hissing in delight as she slid down his shaft until her ass pressed hard against his hips. She flexed her body and rolled her hips in a fluid, sinuous wave that was echoed by her tail as it lashed between his half-bent legs. The fact that she was greedily taking pleasure from him with no thought of reciprocation didn't bother him in the least. In fact he got a smug satisfaction from knowing he could incite such naked and selfish lust in his partner.

Greg pleased himself by stroking her thighs as she writhed above him. He enjoyed the feel of the long, thick muscles surging rhythmically under his hands for a while before he moved one hand to where they joined and his fingers touched her with long-practiced skill. She groaned and her fluid motion became jerky and irregular. Then her eyes snapped open as if she had heard the most startling news imaginable and she shrieked out a ragged series of screams that echoed from the distant hills long after she had vanished.

Greg rose to his feet and enfolded the last, _real_ Renamon in is arms. His miraculously still-hard shaft pressed between their bellies as they lost themselves in a long, warm kiss. Renamon moaned softly with desire as she lowered one had to grasp and stroke him.

Before she could do so, Greg released her, put his hands on her waist and, in an impressive display of strength, lifted her up, as if she weighed nothing, until her belly was before his face. He nuzzled his lips against her stomach and kissed her there and then let her down slowly, kissing and nibbling her body as he did so. As his head pushed aside the silken fall of her ruff she felt him begin to press against her soft, moist flesh and she spread her thighs wide, wrapping her legs loosely around his hips. He lowered her ever so slowly, teasing her with the ever-increasing pressure until he suddenly penetrated her and she gasped and tightened around him.

Greg sank into her sweet, hot body and Renamon shivered and moaned, biting gently at his neck and shoulder as he filled her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and with his other reached up until he could grab a handful of the ruff that hung between her shoulders. Then he began to rock his hips, holding her tightly while he slid in and out of her. He deliberately kept his pace slow and steady, making his strokes as long as possible, nearly leaving her entirely before he thrust back in until he was pressed tightly against her.

He moved faster and faster, making Renamon groan and writhe as much as his powerful grip would allow. At the same time he also reached out with his mind and connected with the vibrant streams of energy that defined his lover's very essence. He touched her in a way that no other being in the universe- _any_ universe- could have done, and channeled the raw power of the newly born land around them through his body and into hers.

The wild strength that flooded into Renamon made her scream and jerk wildly in Greg's arms. Her tail lashed, ripping cushions and carpets where it struck them, her thighs squeezed Greg's hips with bone-crushing force, and her claws tore at his back with enough force to rip sheet metal as if it were paper. Only the fact that he, too, was energized by the power flooding through them both enabled him to survive- and _enjoy_ her violent reaction.

Their simultaneous orgasms made them _literally_ incandescent with ecstasy and they both cried out in wild, exultant voices that shook the world.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Renamon hadn't even realized she'd passed out until she awoke in the darknessof the evening, her head pillowed on Greg's chest. She felt _wonderful_- her body felt as if it weighed nothing and was made of glowing, molten honey. She lay there for a long while just listening to Greg breathing. She could tell he was awake from his heartbeat but she didn't speak for many minutes, just enjoying the feel and smell of him.

Finally the weight of her growing curiosity tipped the scales against the pure perfection of her mood. "Lover-" she said in a bare whisper, "-I remember it all- from each alias- every wonderful moment- but that _last_-" she shook her head slightly against his chest, "-that last was beyond my wildest imaginings."

Greg kissed her tenderly on the top of her muzzle. "I have to admit I didn't know it would feel that good- but I'm glad it did. Only a fraction of what you deserve."

"I don't know if I could have survived anything more intense than that! What did you do?" she asked. "I know it wasn't _just_ for pleasure."

He kissed her again. "I made you- well, not 'better'- I don't think that's possible. But stronger- I made you stronger. Now, you're the equal of any Mega I know of. You can still digivolve and your other forms will be stronger still."

Renamon pushed herself up on one elbow and looked down on him. "And you?"

He nodded. "Me, too. Hell, I was pulling power out of the world all along or I never would have been able to keep up with you! I've finally figured out the optimal configuration for digital beings. Neat, huh?"

His grin and quiet happiness at giving her the greatest gift she could imagine made her heart ache with joy. She kissed him long and lovingly and then nuzzled under his jaw and whispered, "I love you so much it frightens me sometimes."

"And I-" he began and then shook his head, "no, there's just no way I could put how much I love you into words. I'm a programmer, not a poet." A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. "But I did do _something_- just a little thing-"

Renamon raised herself just enough to be able to look into his eyes. Greg smiled at her and made a gesture toward the sky. She rolled over and looked up into the night:

He had used the stars to paint her portrait in the heavens.


End file.
